The Iron Price
by ToWriteForLove
Summary: House Milish, of the iron islands, supported Balon Greyjoy's failed rebellion. To pay the price for treason, they were forced to give up their only child, Arianha. She is sent to Winterfell along with her childhood friend, Theon. What will they do when the game of thrones begins, and they finally get their chance to go home? Rated M for language and lemons. (Full summary inside)
1. Preface

"It feels wrong, being back here," Theon remarks, his tone casual, as though we are strangers, discussing the weather. "You know, after everything."

I nod, even though I know he's not looking, letting the breeze carry my agreement away. In all honesty, what I have to say to him about us doesn't matter. Hasn't mattered for the past five months.

I slant my eyes toward Theon, categorizing his appearance. He wears a black cloak over a brown and black leather tunic. It is washed-out, just like his chance of getting into his fathers graces. Almost like he knows what I'm thinking, his arms cross across his chest, unconsciously protective. Looking away from him makes the bittersweet ache behind my ribs just a little less painful.

Shaking from a combination of nerves and the cold, I step toward the hand-constructed 30 foot tall castle before us. The sharp lines of its architecture and wide, staring windows are all the same, the gray walls has not changed, not even by a shade. But the place feels different, cold, as though the owners have gone on a permanent vacation.

Despite his words and probably against his better judgment, Theon ambles toward the castles doors, legs awkward and weak like a toddler learning its first steps. The shaking in his hands, the tightness of his jaw – every inch of him screams for me to go to him, take that trembling hand in mine, hold him close and whisper quiet nothings meant to soothe.

I don't move, don't say anything, or offer assistance as Theon struggles to move the lard padlock. Finally, there is a twist of his hand, the awkward grating of metal, fingers slipping ever-so-slightly. And then the shining metal chain falls into his hands, the place unlocks, opens, and the door squeaks as he pushes. Just like it used to.

"Ladies first," he says, feigning gallantry and forcing a smile as he gestures for me to proceed. I don't buy the act. I know this, know him, know that the look in his eyes means he's scared to go first, afraid of what we'll find. If, indeed, we find anything.

My feet move without my conscious instruction, a puppet tied to strings. The door is five steps away, three steps, one. Crossing the threshold is easy. It's what's on the other side that's hard.

So hard. Because I remember.

This house is a monument to our relationship, a microcosm of every good thing we had – friendship, love, all those summers spent burning the midnight oil and talking ourselves to death. We were a work of art, he and I, all complementary colors and harsh brushstrokes, I with my icy calm and Theon with his firecracker backtalk. We had it all – mutual respect, kinship, history. Our stories tangled for as far back as I could remember. I know him like I know the hours of the day, like the turning of the seasons; after so long, he's become predictable.


	2. Arriving in WInterfell

It was one of those late summer evenings, stifling in its humidity and suffocating in the heat it sent radiating off the misty fields and dewy hills of Lorence. The sun broke gently through the evening, coming in off the ocean and shining on the roots of the tall fir tree. A gentle wind whispered through the hills, lightly, easily, scattering the purple fronds of the sweet plum tree and the fading lilac blooms of the fragrant wisteria.

Arianha was sitting outside on the balcony just out of the heavy wooden doors leading to her bedroom. She had been watching the sunset now everyday for two weeks, never knowing which might be her last one in Lorence.

She sighed, drawing her 7 year old knobby, scabby knees to her bony chest. She could feel the silky touch of her bare legs against the gentle tickle of the soft cotton ivory nightgown she wore. A gentle breeze swept across, lifting her dark ebony curls off of her shoulders and rippling them down her frail back. Her pallid complexion became rosy and smiling, a brief yet welcome change from the straight painful grimace she wore following the start of the rebellion.

"What? She has no part in this!" Her father screams hysterically.

"You knew the price Milish. Your daughter will be returning to Winterfell with Eddard. It is final." King Robert replies with a roll of his eyes.

Arianhas mother, Laural, covers her face with her hands, and from her position, she can hear sobs bubbling out from between her mothers tired fingers. She turns to Arihanas father, and leans on his chest, trying to find assurance. But nothing could stop the northern men from declaring they would take her baby.

BREAK_

Boredom was the predominant factor of Arianhas days. She had rations which would last her the duration of the 7 day sea voyage. She had taken stock of all that was in her possession and it amassed to 12 clothing trunk, 6 loaves of bread, 6 apples, 2 cheese blocks which had been salted, and 12 containers of water. It was plenty for a 7 year old girl to live on for only a week. She took stock, and wrote in her diary with the limited light that she got from between the slats in the hull of the ship towards where the dusty ceiling met the walls covered in a grime that looked similar to uncoagulated butter. There were many crates containing fabric sheets, and some containing metal rods, some barrels were full of alcohol, and then just miscellaneous boxes containing little things like nails, or horse shoes. It took her all of two days to rummage through the things take from her home. It was, however, on the third day at sea that the ship docked in Pyke. Arianha was rudely awakened by an abrupt bump. She scrambled out of the bunk, nearly tripping, as she wondered what was going on. She heard footsteps and a Stark bannerman rushed into her room. "We've only hit a sandbar. Just a short stop to take on the Greyjoy boy," he said. She knew this meant they were near land. She ran up the steps four at a time to get to the deck. It was still the middle of the night and everyone was running to the bow of the boat to pull the landing boards down.

"Come now, Lady Milish," Eddard said taking her hand as she stared gaping at the edge of the ship, "You must want to stretch your legs." She nodded and followed him on land. It was when she touched the ground that she saw Theon standing on the docks with his things. She smiled a wide toothy grin as she ran down the wooden dock with her white dress whipping behind her. She ran feeling the wind enfolding her into its mists. The sun shined on her glowing skin and her rippling dress moved with a quick elegant movement. Her hair whipped around her back and her arms flowing with the breezy, calm air. Then as she reached the end of the dock she jumped into his arms. He had the same long brown wavy hair that she remembered from the time she and her parents had visited 2 months ago. She held him not letting him go. "Theon! I'm so glad you're coming. I didn't want to go alone." She said as tears fell from her eyes. "Stop being a baby Ari." He said rolling his eyes, though he felt for her, because he too didn't want to be alone. "We're Ironborn. Act like it for the gods sake" She nodded and stood up away from him.

BREAK_

When they reached the forest outside of Winterfell, Arianha grabbed Theons hand. A vacant, bleak road stretched on before them in a serpent-like coil, twisting and turning throughout the wide landscape that surrounded them. The setting sun flushed the sky with an opaque orange glow, floating beside the party with its fading warmth. As the last rays of daylight died away behind the hills a sudden rush of cold darkness swept over the land, plunging it swiftly into the calm night. The air gradually filled with the symphony of nature's sounds as the crickets chirped and the owls hooted, the tranquil sounds echoing clearly through the brisk night air. As they neared the fortified checkpoint Arianha saw dimly glowing security lanterns that hung by the gate of the fort, to her they were faint beacons of salvation from the gloomy night, their pale flickering radiance a sign of hospitable beckoning. A long stone wall that attached to a large corroded iron gate stretched far out into the distance ending at the foot of a small mountain. The other end rolled over countless hills and valleys, eventually fading into the thick shade of a large forest. Ari took in her new home. It was much smaller than her home, and definitely less colorful. She felt tears beginning to prick her eys, but she tried hard to hold them in as not to make Theon upset with her. Theon looked at the girl who was only a few months younger than himself and sighed, squeezing her hand reassuringly. They were in this together, he would make sure of that.


	3. Present

**THIS GOES FOR ALL CHAPTERS, PREVIOUS AND TO COME: I DO NOT OWN THE GAME OF THRONES OR ANY CHARACTERS OR IDEAS THAT YOU NOTICE FROM IT. THE RIGHTS TO THIS INFORMATION IS SOLEY THAT OF THE AUTHORS. NOW! ON WITH THE STORY **

My earliest memory of Lorence is of my mother's garden. We planted sunflowers every spring that I could remember. I remember sitting on a blanket watching my mother as she planted each bulb, seeming not to care about the dirt underneath her fingernails. Everything was happy in my mother's garden. The bright green ivy planted on the metal fence that enclosed our small garden seemed to shelter us from the war and horror that was occurring behind it. The surface area of the garden was just as big as our stables, which was fairly large.. I clearly remember the red poppies and white chrysanthemums. Other than that all I recall is the vast array of purple, orange, green, and yellow colors. It was a beautiful garden. We had a small porcelain birdbath in the middle of it where the occasional sparrow would stop by for a sip. Along the outskirts of the garden my mother planted tomatoes and squash. My father did not have as close of a connection to nature as my mother and I had, which is why I wasn't shocked that the Starks were confused as to why I asked them if they had a green house. They told me they possesed one, but it was so far and so many trees had grown around it that they no longer used it. I told Lady Stark that it was quite fine and that I would need it. She told me that it was proper for a young lady to play in dirt. From then on, I would spend my free time hiding in the green house, planting flowers that I had brought with me. The Stark children, and Theon, knew about it, but I assumed did not tell. I assume they spent many days wondering how I could possibly sit in one place for so long planting flowers.

I had just finished harvesting a few of my poppies when the sun began to settle. I carried with me a basket of them. Approaching the eastern gateway of Winterfell, I saw that two nearly identically dressed men stood guard on either side of it. "Sorry Milady, but we are ordered to look out for a recently escaped prisoner so I am going to need to see your papers." stated the man on the left, a seemingly new recruit because of his contrastingly anxious and serious appearance. A faint melancholy vibe saturated his words; his face so tense and hardened with stern, one could crack a nut on his forehead with ease. The other guard was taller and clearly higher in rank than the one next to him. His face was harsh and rough looking, illustrating many years on the battlefield with its numerous scars.

"Calm down Cyrus, it's only Lady Milish, back from- only the gods know where." He gave me a small wink and I offered him a slight smile. I just wanted to be on my way more than anything. "A Lady from house Milish? Never thought I'd see one of those." He said in a gravelly voice that rumbled from deep within his throat. He heaved a sigh, turning it into an echoing laugh. I looked at the man puzzled. "What's so amusing?" I asked in an offended tone, placing my empty hand on my hip. The other guard did not seem to find anything funny either. "I fought in that war too, you know, trying to keep those traitorous Geryjoys from trying to overthrow the iron throne." He paused to grip his sword that was currently sheathed. 'Why they thought that they could beat the Royal army is beyond me, and personally I would despise you just because of that."

"Mind your tongue Ser," I spat at him as if the very idea of adressing him burned my tongue.

"With the way you use it to disrespect a Lady, I ought to remove it" A voice behind the guard drawled. I leaned past the taller one to see Theon smirking at me. "What do you want Greyjoy?" The guard spat at Theon. "Lady Stark has requested Lady Milish's presence for dinner."

"Has she now?" I said is a mocking confused tone, "I wonder how she'll feel to know that- what's your name again?- Oh, it doesn't matter, let's call you fathead. Yes, the fatheaded ugly dog of a gurd standing at the eastern gate, kept me from attending on time." The guard looked as if her was biting the inside of his mouth, "Now if you'll excuse me." I said pushing past the two men. As Theon and I walked away, I heard the taller guard laughing histrarically.

"Well hello to you too gorgeous," Theon said linking his arm with mine.

"I don't need you fighting my battles Theon." I said, not looking at him, keeping my eyes ahead of me.

"Yes, you looked as if you were handling things quite well." I could tell he had rolled his eyes.

"I could have handled it." I said growing defensive.

"Where are your shoes?" I stopped in my tracks. I had completely forgotten my shoes in the woods for the thrid time this week. I slapped my hand to head and closed my eyes. When I looked up, I saw Theon smirking at me, again. He had his hand out to me. Dangling from his fingers were a pair or brown slippers. "You had that handled as welll?" He said raising an eyebrow. I snatched the shoes from him and slipped them on. "I hate you." I said picking up my pace. I was walking away from him when he called out, "Lady Stark is miffed at you, gorgeous."

BREAK_

I sat at the dinner table, my head bent down, to hide my guilty eyes. The meal on my plate sats untouched. I pushed it around with my fork to make it appear that I ate something. Suddenly, Sansa pipes up.

"Arianha, what have you been doing all day? I've noticed that you haven't sewn a single stitch since yesterday morning."

This was going to be a tough one. Lady STark glances up from her dinner and frowns.

"Arianha…" she warns. I tried to speak and find myself at loss for words. I cleared my throat and began again.

"Well, you see…" I said nervously.

Theom interrupts.

"Get to the point, Arianha." I glare at him and then look at the floor, take a deep breath, and prepare for the worst.

"I was studying."

"Your sewing skills?" Lady Stark genuinely inquires. I bent my head even farther down.

"No." I whisper. My cheeks are hot. I can feel them reddening.

"What were you studying, Arianha?" Theon asks. He already sounds smug.

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